Pure Poison
by Puredeadthingy
Summary: Just what makes Laura de Winter so toxic? And why did Brice decide his brother was in trouble left alone with his family? Short ficlet.


Short ficlet about why Brice decided to turn to the PODS and what, exactly, is so toxic about Laura de Winter.

Reviews are loved.

Brice's funeral was a civilised affair. Flowers, no crying in church, psalms read, and hymns sung beautifully. It was neat, and over fast.

Mostly neat. Dominic had spent the first half of the service snivelling, and the second asking where his brother was, in a loud voice. If he'd said it just once it would have been a good publicity stunt. As it was, Laura de Winter's patience was growing thin as she sat outside the church. 

She would never admit it, but losing a son like Brice had hit her hard. For the first time in her life, she had lost. Brice had gone off the rails a little, true; but he could have been reined in and become a most influential member of the family. He had the looks, he had the charm and he had the intelligence.

'Mother, when is Brice going to see us again?' said the irritating voice of her youngest—only—son, Dominic. Laura de Winter sighed and lifted up the child onto her knee, having spotted a photographer lurking around. She bent her head so that her glossy hair shielded her mouth from view, and spoke in a sweet, serious tone of voice.

'Why, little Dominic. He never is. Your brother was stupid enough to get himself drunk and impale himself on a knife. He was a weak man. You'll be strong, won't you? You won't fail the family, will you?'

Dominic shook, and Laura swept him up, standing, cooing at him in a clearer voice.

'There there,' she chided, 'Poor darling, missing his brother so…' she explained to the world at large.

The media there made sad noises as she explained how the brothers were the best of friends, how the child was inconsolable. Laura was secretly amused—the words of some devoted mother, who for some reason found enjoyment in her children. They were not useful until they were predictable, surely.

After a quarter of an hour, when the media had got all of what they needed to write 'Laura's Heartache', or 'De Winter Star Snuffed Out' or something, and had left, Laura abruptly put Dominic down.

'Get in the car,' she demanded harshly, and he ran off to get in. Laura watched him absently as Dominic scrambled in, wondering how much more sympathy the public would give to an loving uncle in politics who had recently lost _both_ his nephews instead of just _one._

'Laura, my dear,' said a voice, shaking her from her plots. 'You look almost sad. I do hope nothing's the matter?'

'Jonas,' she turned, greeting the man. 'I was just thinking—how much pain Brice put me through, giving birth, how long it took me to start work again and look as well as I did then, how much of a good member of the family he could have been, and the foolish boy gets himself killed. As for his brother, the same could be said for him…'

Jonas raised his eyebrows. 'Young Dominic? Let us not be too hasty; the boy is still young, can still show some skill.'

The elegant woman snorted, adjusting her black lace shawl. 'Ever since his death, all he's done is draw. Stupid stick-figure pictures of a boy and a girl holding hands, with halos around them. He's got _religion_. It would be less of a problem if he had an accident.'

Jonas wrinkled his nose. 'No, my dear. Encourage his art. We haven't had a good creative mind in the family for a while.'

'I would have thought they would have been scientifically minded,' the lady said caustically. 'After their father.'

Jonas sniffed. 'A mistake, that marriage. Let us hope the boy got his mind from our family.'

Laura was silent a while, looking out over to the car. 'I don't want to have to look after him. Without his brother, all he does is come and whine to me. His governess says he needs his mother, and I don't like to be cruel to the servants; they may have some power with the media.'

The man sighed, watching the boy wait patiently and slid an arm around Laura's slim shoulders. 'My dear, appearances must be kept. A week more, that is all. You must present a strong face in all of this, for the family.'

Laura tossed her hair, and shook his arm off her. 'I will manage. I do not like it,' she warned.

'Nobody expected you to.'

Their conversation faded out as the two older boys walked away. One was angry, clenching his fists and teeth; the other was casual, cool, and quiet.

The casual one spoke. 'You ready? Unless you want Dom to be—'

'No need for the theatrics,' the other spat. 'I've had enough of the pretence being a de Winter. I'm ready, alright. _Halos._ God.'

'People believe lies their parents told them.'

'You just saw my Mum. No way did she tell us there's an afterlife. This is something demented Dom saw, me and some angel girl fluttering through the damn cosmos, happily ever after.'

The casual one smirked quickly.

'Take my hand, then, Brice,' he said quietly. 'Save Dom, forget being an angel. You're one of us, now.'


End file.
